


Gold Rings

by TheDarkLordMegatron



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 09:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16807735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkLordMegatron/pseuds/TheDarkLordMegatron
Summary: After thirty years on the throne of Lucis, finding oneself with no responsibilities, save looking somewhat respectable in public, was a strange thing. Accepting his abdication had been hard at first. Never in the two thousand years of their line had a monarch been granted the opportunity to step down and allow their son - or daughter - to take their place. There were no guidelines for him to follow, no records of the dos and don’ts that previous monarchs experienced.Nor had they been given the chance to marry the one they'd loved for so many years, free of all expectations. Regis was just unbelievably lucky.





	Gold Rings

After thirty years on the throne of Lucis, finding oneself with no responsibilities, save looking somewhat respectable in public, was a strange thing. Accepting his abdication had been hard at first. Never in the two thousand years of their line had a monarch been granted the opportunity to step down and allow their son - or daughter - to take their place. There were no guidelines for him to follow, no records of the dos and don’ts that previous monarchs experienced.

Then again, none of his ancestors had spent fifteen years of their lives mourning their son’s future, knowing there would come a time when his precious child would be forced to sacrifice himself for the future of Eos. That his dear Noctis would die to bring an end to the Accursed. Regis had honestly expected the creature responsible for his son’s bleak future to be something truly horrific, perhaps a being so warped by the Scourge that they were no longer recognisable as human. He hadn’t expected to return to his apartments one evening and find Clarus sitting in his favourite armchair, his blade laying across his lap, glaring at the Chancellor of Niflheim who had the balls to be sitting in his father’s armchair. Likewise, he hadn’t expected Clarus to tell him to sit down and just listen to what the man had to say, that it involved their sons.

Ardyn had spent a good six and a half minutes complaining about the Amicitia line, most notably their obsession with beheading first and asking questions later. Once the man had _finally_ finished complaining he’d leant back in his chair and introduced himself as Ardyn Lucis Caelum; his something-something great-uncle and the immortal Accursed. A statement Clarus supported by admitting that he’d accidentally beheaded the man, which explained Ardyn’s earlier complaints, and had watched his head reattach itself only moments later. Something Clarus had later admitted had been both disgusting and fascinating.

Two hours after they had first met, Regis had come to two conclusions. One, Ardyn was an asshole - not that he could particularly blame him. Regis was quite certain that had he devoted his life to healing and fixing the mistakes of the Astrals, only be rejected by the gods and executed by his own brother, he would be in the exact same position as Ardyn. And two, he was an asshole Regis was willing to trust. More so when Ardyn made it quite clear that he had no desire to be the cause of his great-nephew’s death.

“I do believe the Six have had enough blood shed in their names,” Ardyn had drawled, swirling a glass of wine “And dear Noctis is quite possibly one of my favourite nephews.” Apparently the Accursed had spent many a day and night observing his son from afar. Perhaps not the most comforting thing to be told, but one he could live with considering it meant there was a possibility that Noctis could survive the damned Prophecy.

By the early hours of the morning Regis was perhaps just as, if not more confused than he had been at the beginning of their conversation. That being said, he was also far more hopeful about his son’s future than he had been in years. It was quite the revelation to discover that not only was the Chancellor of Niflheim the ‘Accursed’, but the man was also his ancestor. An ancestor who had become increasingly impatient and unwilling to wait another ten years for the welcoming embrace of death. 

Initially both the King and his Shield had been less than willing to accept the man’s words as truth. After all, the tales of the Chancellor’s silver tongue were numerous and well known, a fact Ardyn himself knew well enough. Indeed it took three nights of conversation, lasting from dusk til dawn, for Regis and Clarus to slowly come to trust his words. On the third night and at Clarus’ request, Cor had joined them. Taking a seat beside his King, watching Ardyn with a detached curiosity. Though he had instantly perked up at the mention of his Shield, a man known at Gilgamesh, not of Lucis but loyal to a fault. A loyalty for which he was punished and cursed to wander the grounds of a place Ardyn himself could never roam, all because he had refused to turn his back on his King.

“There is nothing quite as painful as knowing the whereabouts of one’s heart and being unable to retrieve it.” Ardyn had lamented before holding his arms out. “But now the decision must fall to you dear nephew. I know what must be done and how we may achieve it, all that remains is for you to decide whether or not you are prepared to put the lives of your son and those he cares for in my hands.”

In the end what choice did they have? No matter Regis’ answer Noctis was fated to die, and by extension Gladiolus, there really was little difference either way. And so, two weeks later both Regis and Clarus had bid their sons goodbye on the steps of the Citadel. That night retiring to their bed and simply clinging onto one another, knowing that they had potentially sent their sons to their deaths. 

By some miracle that had not been the case as four months later the boys had returned, accompanied by both Lunafreya and Ravus - the latter of whom had decided that he no longer wished to see Noctis or Regis dead - with a promise for the young Oracle that by the end of that very day, Ardyn and by extension the Scourge would be no more. Ardyn had seemed more than pleased with the promise, ushering their little rag-tag group to the Crystal’s Chamber as quickly as possible, pausing only to slash at a painting of the Mystic. But true to Lunafreya’s words, by the time the sun set on that day Ardyn was gone, the Prophecy fulfilled and his son stood in front of him very much alive.

Fifteen years he had spent mourning his son’s impending death. Fifteen gods damned years, and all it took was their Immortal ancestor deciding to ruin the plans of the Astrals, for the bleak future he’d envisioned to be completely erased. It was almost surreal. More so when his son started taking on more and more of his responsibilities, eventually, with the aid of both Cor and Clarus, convincing Regis to step down and allow his son to ascend to the throne. As selfish as it might sound, he was almost relieved to no longer have the pressures of a monarch on his shoulders - the Ring had certainly taken a toll on his body, more so than it had on his father or grandfather.

“You’re thinking too hard again Dad.” The sudden appearance of his son standing in front of him, tore Regis from his thoughts. “I’m going to be scooping up brains off the floor at this rate.” Noctis teased with a bright smile. Looking over his son Regis smiled, reaching out to take hold of his shoulders. “Dad?”

“I don’t say it enough Noct, but I am so, _so_ proud of you.”

“Dad,” Noctis whined averting his gaze, focusing his attention on his father’s suit, straightening out the already pristine jacket.

“I mean it Noct, I’m so proud of the man, the King you have become.”

“Dad stop, you’re not allowed to be sappy on your wedding day.”

Laughing Regis pulled him into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I think you’ll find that this is the one day that I should be allowed to do exactly that.”

“Ugh save it for Clarus!” Noctis protested, playfully pushing his father’s face away and ducking out of his hold.

“Mind my hair!” Regis joked, swiping at his son “I don’t think Wesk will be too pleased if you ruin all of his hard work.”

“Pfft, when is he ever pleased? He’s worse than Iggy when it comes to looking presentable.”

“Give the man some credit Noctis. He did have to put up with myself, Clarus, Cid and Cor for close to a year.” Noctis paused for a moment, his nose scrunched up as he contemplated that.

“Okay yeah, he definitely had it worse. How anyone can deal with Cor for more than an hour is beyond me.” Regis opened his mouth to protest but was quickly cut off by Noctis’ phone ‘kweh’d’. “Don’t judge me, Prompto changed it.”

“And you couldn’t possibly change it back,” He teased.

“Well I was supposed to take you to the down to the Great Hall because Luna’s just arrived, but now I think I’m just going to leave you here.”

Gasping in mock horror, Regis placed a hand upon his chest “You would leave your frail father alone in his bedroom, with no way of making it to his fiancée in time for his own wedding? How cruel a King you are!”

“Come on old man,” Noctis huffed with a roll of his eyes prior to hauling his dad to his feet. “Six knows why Clarus is marrying you if you can’t even drag your butt down a couple of hallways.”

“You cheeky-!” Once again Noctis avoided his hand, dancing just out of reach and warping behind him. “Cruel child! Insulting and threatening to abandon your poor father! I’ve raised a heathen.” 

“Don’t think you can really call me a heathen when I’ve literally forged covenants with the gods.” Noctis reasoned as he linked arms with Regis, gently leading him out of his bedroom, sparing a brief moment to nod at the trio of guards stationed outside the door.

“A feat I find most impressive,” Regis admitted “Even if you did try your hardest to give me multiple heart attacks.”

“I just want to point out that I wasn’t the one flew a flying spear thing towards Leviathan.”

“And Cor gave Prompto a suitable lecture for doing so.” Regis sighed heavily, allowing himself to be led towards the elevator. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable with his situation, far from it, but he did wish that he and Clarus had been allowed to have a small, quiet ceremony with just their friends and families in attendance. Alas as the King Father, and wasn’t that a strange title to hold, there were still certain expectations he had to adhere to, hence the far too public ceremony he was heading towards.

“You’ve spaced out again,” Noctis murmured, bumping against his side as they came to a stop outside the elevator. “Nerves?”

Laughing Regis smiled at him “My boy, I’ve long since come to terms with the fact that I am a perpetually nervous man now, but I’m not going to back out if that’s what you’re wondering. Clarus and I have waited for too long for this day.”

His fingers unconsciously trailed to the simple golden band on his ring finger. If he was completely honest with himself, he’d been nervous from the moment Clarus had dropped to one knee after Noctis’ coronation and presented him with the ring. With so few duties to fulfil, he’d found himself with almost nothing to do most days, bar exploring the parts of Insomnia he hadn’t seen in years and taking a trip out to Hammerhead and Altissia, his mother used to tell him that empty days breeds nerves. He certainly wasn’t worried about Clarus abandoning him at the altar, despite Cid’s teasing. If Clarus was going to run Regis was certain he’d have done it years ago.

After Aulea’s death Regis had made peace with the knowledge that he was going to spend the rest of his life alone, despite the Council pushing for another marriage, claiming that one heir was simply not enough. A frankly ridiculous argument considering that Regis himself was an only child. He’d promptly had those who kept pushing him towards their daughters, or the occasional noble widower, removed from their positions.

“Dad!” Noctis laughed, snapping his fingers in front of his father’s face, grinning at the three guards behind the former-King who were desperately trying not to laugh.

“What?” He asked, shaking himself quite literally from his thoughts once again.

“Are we going, or do I need to text Gladio and tell him you’re bailing on Clarus?” That certainly got him moving. Playfully pushing his son aside and muttering incoherently Regis hobbled into the elevator.

“Coming son?” Snorting Noctis joined him, nodding to the guards who saluted the pair but otherwise stayed put as the doors shut.

“You sure you’re okay dad?” Noctis questioned after a moment of silence, looking over at him in concern.

“I’m fine Noctis” He responded with a warm smile, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders “I was the same the day I married your mother. Only that time I was the one awaiting her arrival, not the other way around.” Noctis smiled and lent against him, careful not to put too much stress on his father’s bad leg.

“What do you think mum would make of Clarus?”

“Oh your mother _loved_ Clarus.” Regis said with a bright smile “She used to joke about the two of us marrying if she had never come along, that we’d do it just to spite the Council.” Snickering Noctis opened his mouth to respond but shut it just as quickly when elevator doors opened once more, revealing several more guards alongside Prompto and Ignis. Separating himself from his father, Noctis linked their arms and together they stepped out into the hall.

“Gladiolus and Lord Clarus are already situated and awaiting your Majesties,” Ignis stated with a bow and warm smile, echoed by Prompto seconds later.

“Thank you Ignis,” Regis replied warmly. The pair stepped aside, hands over their hearts as Noctis and Regis passed by, Noctis pausing very briefly to reach out and squeeze Prompto’s hand before moving on. It took no time at all, minutes at most, for the entourage to arrive at the doors to the Great Hall. “Here we go,” He muttered softly under his breath, taking in the ornate doors on which the other side stood his soon-to-be-husband and what sounded like the entirety of Insomnia’s nobility.

“Ready?” Noctis asked with a nudge of his arm. “There’s a perfectly good window for warping just over there, not that I have any experience with that.” He added quickly, seeing the look on his father’s face and remembering that Ignis was standing mere feet behind him.

Regis laughed happily, pulling his son into a one-armed hug “I once threw myself from the top of the Citadel just to see how long it would take me to get to the bottom, so I am hardly one to talk.” He paused to straighten his back and take a deep breath “I’m ready.”

A nod from Noctis and the doors swung open with ease, the traditional yet slightly adapted wedding march announcing their arrival. And there, standing in his full regalia and looking as handsome as the day they first met, stood Clarus, flanked by his children and even from such a fair distance Regis could see the smile upon his face.

Needing no further prompting from his son, Regis crossed the threshold and began the intimidating walk up the aisle, finally understanding Aulea’s complaints about the brief journey.

“Lord Amicitia” Noctis greeted with a bow of his head, holding Regis’ hand out to the other man.

“Your Majesty.” Clarus responded, copying the young King’s movements and accepting the offered hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and winking at Regis. “You look stunning.” He said almost inaudibly as they moved to stand before Lunafreya who was smiling at them both. Regis took a breath to calm himself, squeezing Clarus’ hand. He could do this. It didn’t matter that there were quite literally hundreds of faces watching them in that moment, all that mattered were the smiles of his son and soon to be step-children, in addition to the man he’d loved for decades standing beside him.


End file.
